


Love Can't Win A War

by Current521



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: AU, Angst, M/M, Sad Ending, chimera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 05:50:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 12,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20719136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Current521/pseuds/Current521
Summary: Owen gets a warning that saves his life





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Me at like 2am some weeks ago: Hmm, wonder what would've happened if Owen hadn't almost died, but still joined Chimera  
Me now: Here we go, that was a lot of research

"Curt Mega, you're going to be the death of me!" Owen was a decent runner, and so was Curt, but he seriously doubted they were gonna get out of this one.

"No!" Curt was barely an inch behind him. "I'd never let you down! Watch out, left!"

Owen automatically changed the course of his foot and just managed to avoid stepping on the banana peel Curt had dropped earlier. He didn’t even have time to be annoyed by it.

They were barely out of the building when it blew; just far enough not to die, but they were both pretty bruised up.

“Hey, are you okay?” Curt reached out to cradle Owen’s face. “That’s a nasty cut.”

“I’m fine, love.” Owen could feel the cut across his cheek, and it did hurt, but it wasn’t fatal. He reached down to turn off his radio. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Curt turned off his radio as well. “I’m fine. I’m sorry.”   
“Damn right you’re sorry.” They were still just sitting on the ground outside of the compound. “What were you thinking? Curt, my dear, I love you, but you cannot keep pulling stunts like this. You’ll get yourself killed.” Owen took Curt’s face in his hand. “Now what a world that would be, eh? Without Curt Mega? Not one I wanna be in.” He kissed him quickly. “We should probably get going. Someone’ll be here any minute.”

Curt nodded. “I’m sorry, Owen.” He stood up and held a hand out. “I love you too, alright.” He pulled Owen to his feet and into a hug.

Owen put his arms around Curt and allowed him to carry a bit of his weight. “It’s alright, you’re forgiven.” He was mumbling more than he intended, and his vision was blurring. “Curt, I think I’m losing too much blood. It’s a little hazy out here.” He leaned back a little to look Curt in the eyes.

“Shit.” Curt adjusted his grip so he was supporting most of Owen’s weight. “Where are you bleeding from? Your face isn’t bad enough to make you dizzy.”

“My leg, I think.” The world seemed fuzzy and distant to Owen now, even the pain did. He’d kinda forgotten about it. “I love you.” He leaned in to kiss Curt again.

“I love you too, just—” Curt looked down. “Shit. Okay, I’m gonna lay you down, I need to do something about this.” He knelt, bringing Owen down with him. 

Owen leaned back to end up flat on the ground. He could feel Curt messing around with his leg, then a sharp pain. He yelled.

“Sorry, sorry, I just, there’s some shrapnel in your leg, I need to get it out before I can do anything, fuck, okay. Here.” He passed a flask to Owen. “Drink something. It’ll numb the pain.”

“Yeah, just be careful.” Owen took a drink. He was on the edge of consciousness, watching Curt fret over him. It was nice to be taken care of.

“Of course, of course.” Curt moved some stuff around, apparently, then winced. “I’m gonna need a tourniquet, fuck. Okay. Owen? Are you awake?”

“‘M awake.” Owen was beginning to get scared, but he trusted Curt. “I’m drinking.”   
“Good, good.” Curt struggled with something for a moment. “I need to get the shrapnel out, this is the part that’s gonna hurt. I’m so sorry.” He pulled something sharply.

Owen screamed. His vision swam, but he managed to hold onto consciousness.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Curt was working quickly, wrapping Owen’s leg in something — his jacket, probably — and elevating it. “I’m sorry. Is it okay?”

“It’s fine.” Owen sighed deeply and relaxed. “Thanks love.”

“I thought I was gonna lose you.” Curt was breathing hard and speaking softly. “You’re still bleeding, but this is the best I can do. Hopefully it’ll keep you alive. We’ll need to call someone.”   
“I know.” Owen reached out. “You saved my life just not. Come on, I wanna… I wanna look at you properly.” Somewhere in the back of his mind , Owen was distantly aware that he was being irrational. “I wanna…”   
“Not right now.” Curt took Owen’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I need to keep your leg elevated and I have nothing to prop it up on right now, so I need to stay back here.” He let go of Owen and reached for his radio, abandoned on the ground. “I’m gonna turn the radio back on.”

Seconds later, a voice crackled through. “Mega? Are you okay? We heard an explosion—”   
“Barb. We got out. Almost. Owen’s injured, we need you to send someone. I’ve turned my tracker back on. I can keep him alive, but you need to hurry.”

“Oh, of course.” Barb switched out of scolding mode almost immediately. “Someone’s on their way. Stay safe.”

“Gotta go. I’m on the line.” Curt killed the connection and looked at Owen.  _ I love you _ , he mouthed.

_ Love you too, _ Owen mouthed back. He lifted his arms to sign something, but it was a lot of effort, and he wasn’t sure Curt would get it; the overlap was minimal. But they never spoke much while the radios were on; there was too big a chance of someone tuning in to hear something that could cost them both their jobs.

Curt smiled down at Owen when he saw him lifting his arms. “Save your strength, buddy, you’ll need it.”

Owen tried to relax again. Now that he was a little more stable he was regaining consciousness, but that also meant that he was feeling the pain more acutely. “I need a drink.” He started reaching for the flask, which he’d dropped, but Curt’s hand stopped him.

“Better not. Tell me if it becomes too bad, but it’s gonna make things worse in the long run.” Curt looked up. “We’ll be picked up any minute now. What you need is water, but we don’t have any.”   
“Damn.” Owen held onto Curt’s hand, trying to focus on that instead of the pain in his leg.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before a truck pulled up on the road a few yards away. Barb jumped out along with a couple men in ASS uniforms.

“Is he alive?” Barb came up to them first.   
“I’m fine,” Owen replied. He was happy to note that his voice was mostly back and even.

“He lost a lot of blood,” Curt said. “I’ve had to put a tourniquet on, it’s been ten minutes. He needs better medical attention.”   
Barb turned to the men accompanying her. “Take him in the truck and back to town. I’ll stay here with Agent Mega, there are a few things we need to clear up.”

The taller of the two men nodded. “Will do.” He hoisted up Owen while the other guy held his leg steady.

“Take care of yourself, Owen,” Curt said. “I’ll come see you as soon as we’re done here.”   
“Take your time, my dear.” Owen relaxed; being picked up had shaken his leg, and he’d tensed up from the pain.

He was carried to the truck and then taken to a small hospital in a nearby town. He was given some anaesthetics and started drifting out of consciousness as his leg was stitched up and a drop was put in his arm.

Curt came in about an hour later, as Owen was barely conscious. “How are you doing?”

Owen chuckled. “They tell me I’ll be fine. You saved my life out there today.”

Curt shrugged. “Hey, that’s what partners are for.” He sat in the chair next to Owen. Nurses were bustling in and out, checking the drop and the stitches and occasionally speaking to each other in rapid-fire Russian that Owen couldn’t hope to follow.

“Do you know what they’re saying?” he asked Curt, who was better with languages.

“Some of it,” Curt replied, laughing slightly. “Not enough to be coherent.”

Owen shrugged. “Can you ask them if they can lower the anaesthetic? I’d like to stay awake while you’re here, but I’m drifting off.” He tried to sit up, but Curt stopped him.

“Sure. But stay still, no need to exhaust yourself.”

Owen sighed, but laid back down as Curt turned away to say something to one of the nurses. She shook her head and said something in reply. Owen had his eyes closed before Curt turned back. “Sorry old boy, no can do. They want you to sleep. So do I, you need to rest.”

“Will you stay?” Owen was drifting off as he spoke.

“Sure.” Curt patted his shoulder.

Owen fell asleep within seconds.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hospital talks

When he woke, Curt was still in the chair next to his bed, seemingly asleep. It was dark outside, and there were no nurses around, so Owen figured it was well into the early AM's.

He took a moment to just look at Curt before sighing and realising he needed someone to talk to. "Curt, darling? Curt? Are you awake?"

Curt blinked awake slowly, then sprang up. "Owen! Are you okay? Should I can the nurse?" His hand was halfway to the bell before Owen held up a hand to stop him.

"I'm fine, love, I just wanted to talk. We so rarely get time alone." 

Curt sighed in relief and reached for Owen's hand again. "Good. You're okay."

"I am." Owen smiled. He was pretty banged up, and now that the anaesthetics were wearing off — his drop had been taken out, he noted — he was beginning to feel the stitches, but he was still strangely happy. He and Curt rarely saw each other outside of work anymore. "You know, that chair can't be comfortable, you can lay down with me. I haven't broken anything, I can move over."

Curt glanced at the door. "Better not," he said softly. "Someone could come in here."

"Curt, dear, it—" Owen sighed. "It's a handful of Russian nurses that we'll likely never see again, it doesn't matter. Even if they say something they'll be accused of sowing dissent because you're an American official. Come on, lay down, you need to rest."

Curt sighed, but relented, carefully laying down on the cot next to Owen. "Fine then." He laughed. "You always get your way."

Owen put his head on Curt's chest and put both arms around him. "If only I did." He laid still for a moment, matching his breathing to Curt's. "Hey, are you feeling okay? I know you were a step ahead of me at the end there, but still, did you get hurt?"

"A few scratches, nothing to worry about. A bit of alcohol and a bandaid and it was fine." He pulled Owen up a little so they were face to face. "I'm sorry I lied. I'm sorry I wasn't careful."

"You should be." Owen put a hand on Curt's cheek and closed his eyes a moment. "I almost died back there Curt, and I almost lost you. I can't keep doing this, and neither can you." He kissed him, and finally had the time to hold it for more than a fraction of a second. "I love you."

"I love you too." Curt was crying. "I don't know— I'm sorry."

Owen wiped his tears away. "No need to cry, love. All is forgiven. Just be careful next time." He rested his forehead against Curt’s. "Having you fuss over me was quite enjoyable, though. Might be worth getting injured if this is the reward."

"Bastard." But Curt was laughing a little, and he leaned in for another kiss.

"Oh don't pretend you wouldn't do the same." Owen was laughing into the kiss, not quite breaking away even when speaking. "Can't blame you, it's very enjoyable." He had both hands on Curt's face now and was using that fact to hold the kiss. Curt, for his part, had his hands firmly behind Owen's back, keeping him close, which Owen was grateful for; he suspected he'd fall off the cot otherwise.

Curt eventually leaned back enough to break the kiss. "You need some rest." He was whispering.

"Not right now, Curt, please." Owen closed his eyes. "I just need a distraction right now."

"Owen…" Curt sighed. "Fine." He leaned in for a quick kiss. "Promise me you'll tell me if anything's wrong."

"Everything's fine." Owen could hear a little bit of desperation creep into his voice, but he didn't care. "I'm just scared. We're in a hospital in Russia, heaven only knows when someone will realise who we are and what we've done. Forgive me if I want to spend some time with my love."

Curt shook his head. "You know as well as I do that sex isn't going to distract you."

"I wasn't talking about sex. I don't think it would be advisable to get my heart rate up quite that much." He smiled. "Just be together a little bit. I don't get to see you often enough."

"Alright then." Curt leaned in for a kiss, and Owen allowed himself to get lost in it just a little bit. He hated being in foreign countries, especially hostile ones, but having Curt with him helped.

Eventually they went to sleep, Owen more or less curled up on top of Curt. He'd considered offering Curt to get up, but fuck it, he didn't care all that much just then.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A talk with Cynthia, and a Russian lesson

"Well aren't you two stupid." Cynthia's voice woke up Owen. He was momentarily confused until he remembered the explosion and the hospital, and realised that he was tangled with Curt in a bed.

He smiled at Cynthia, trying to retain some dignity. Curt was still asleep next to him. "Lovely to see you, Director Houston."

"Cut the crap, Owen." She was smoking, standing at the end of the cot. "I don't care, but you'd better wake up your boyfriend and get him out of bed, someone's gonna step through that door any minute."

"Right." Owen sat up and shook Curt awake. "Curt, darling, time to get up."

Curt made a noise of protest, then seemed to remember where he was. He sat up and saw Cynthia. "Cynthia! Hi. Wasn't expecting to see you all the way out here."

"Get out of bed, Mega." Cynthia took a drag of her cigarette. " _ You _ need to be more careful. Both of you. What would have happened if someone else had walked in. Your boss?" She looked at Owen.

"I'd be out of a job," Owen replied, sighing. "I get it, Cynthia. We'll be more careful."

"Damn right you will. If anyone else had seen you you’d both be out of a job and I’d have HUAC on my ass." She looked between them. "I spoke to the doctor, they won't let Owen fly for a week, at least, possibly longer. You'll have to stay here. MI6 is sending someone to stay with you, but it'll take a few days to arrange, so until then, Curt and I will stay. I'm booking a hotel, I assume you two want to share a room?" She raised an eyebrow.

Owen was about to protest, but Curt spoke first. "Thank you, Cynthia. We'd appreciate it." He got out of bed and resumed his seat in the chair next to the bed.

Cynthia rolled her eyes. “Fucking figures. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I wasn’t actually here to see you, I have a meeting. Owen, you do not fucking leave this room until you’re discharged, and that’s an order. Curt, there’s only one hotel in town, meet me there at noon. And if you two get caught canoodling or whatever the hell you’re doing, I’ll fucking kill you both, alright? Alright. See you later.” She left without waiting for a reply.

Curt breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God it was only Cynthia.”

“Yeah, about that.” Owen sat up. “Did she know?”

“Eh, she suspected.” Curt shrugged. “She’s fine. I think she’s in the same camp, so to speak.”

“Well.” Owen wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. He was saved by the door opening and a nurse entering.

She said something in Russian, which Curt answered, much slower. Then he turned to Owen. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah. Hey, uh, can you ask if anyone speaks English? If you’re leaving in a bit…”

“Of course.” Curt turned back to the nurse to say a few things.

“What did she want?” Owen asked when she’d left.

“I have no idea. She said something about food, so I just told her that you wanted something to eat and that it would be best if someone spoke English, since I was leaving in a bit. She seemed satisfied.” Curt shrugged. “You should learn a bit of Russian, you know.”   
“I know.” Owen sighed. “Can you teach me something? At least enough for me to say thank you.”

“ _ Спасибо _ ,” Curt said. Owen just stared at him. “Spa-see-bo. Means thank you.”

“Right. Spa-see-bo.” He could hear the hesitation in his own voice.

“Close enough.”

“Thanks love.”   
“Don’t mention it.” Curt laughed, and Owen watched him. Curt was infuriating in many ways, and Owen knew that he was probably better off without him, but then he’d laugh and something inside of him would be utterly entranced. Damn him to hell.

The nurse returned with a tray of food and some water. Owen thanked her in his very broken Russian, but she seemed delighted.

He and Curt small talked for a while longer, then Curt got up to leave. He tore a page out of the notebook he’d been writing in and handed it to Owen. “A few things to get you started. I wrote it in Russian as well so if they don’t get it you can show it to them. Should be mostly correct.”

Owen looked at the paper in his hand. Curt had scrawled a handful of phrases that Owen would need, then written an approximate pronunciation and then the Russian. Owen smiled. “Thank you. I’ll see you soon.”   
“See you soon.” Curt got up and made to leave.   
“Curt.” He stopped, and Owen reached out for him. “No one’s here. You can kiss me goodbye.”

“Of course.” Curt walked back and kissed Owen quickly. “I’ll see you soon. Love you.”   
“Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUAC: House of Un-American Activities Committee, established in the early 1950's to root out communism, especially in government. This included gay people, as they were seen as a threat due to a case where to gay men were blackmailed into soying for the USSR under threat of being outed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen meets Alexei and hears about Chimera

There was one nurse at the hospital, a man by the name of Alexei, who spoke surprisingly good English. He stayed in Owen’s room for a few hours that day, after Curt left, saying he wanted to practice his English. Owen wasn’t stupid, he clearly had some kind of purpose, but he didn’t know what.

By the third hour of smalltalk, Alexei had let a few things slip. He knew Owen was a British spy, he knew about the compound they’d blown up — though apparently not why, or that Owen had been quite so directly involved — and he was interested in the work Owen did. No specifics, nothing secret, just methods and hypotheticals. Owen humoured him with a few stories, all general stuff; he wasn’t gonna go into details about their methods to a Russian, but he could tell a civilian about the value of a shoulder holster and how annoying long-distance phone calls were. That last one was mostly inspired by personal experience.

“I have something that might interest you,” Alexei said after one of Owen’s small stories. He handed Owen a business card. “She’s American, but she’s here for a few weeks. We’re a small group of people trying to, how you say… Shape the future of intelligence.”

Owen looked at the card.  _ Lauren Sylas, Chimera _ . There was a phone number and an address in California. “Chimera?” he asked. “Never heard of that.”   
“It’s, ehh, not well known. I put my phone number on the back there. We’re discharging you tonight but you’ll have to stay in town, so you should stop by sometime. We could use someone like you, someone who understands the intelligence industry from a more, how you say, working standpoint.”   
“Hmm.” Owen tucked the business card away in his jacket. “Tell me more about this.”

So Alexei did. About how state secrets were ruining lives, about how the espionage business was not nearly equipped to solve that problem, how a lot of people, including this Lauren Sylas, were getting together to change that under the name Chimera. “A lot of this might seem counterintuitive, but come meet Lauren at some point, she will convince you,” Alexei said once we was done.

“This is a lot to take in.” Owen laid down. “I’ll think about it.”

“Very good. I need to leave. You will be discharged within the hour, I assume.” Alexei left the room without any further comment, leaving Owen alone in his thoughts.

Theoretically, he wasn’t wrong. Owen had seen firsthand how a lot of the things they did hurt people, people who just wanted a life. Or people disturbingly like himself who had a job and ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. And theoretically, the idea of there being no state secrets was a good one; it forced international politics to operate entirely above board, which would be likely to reduce tensions. Theoretically, Chimera was right.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hotel room in Russia

Owen headed to the hotel when he was discharged. Cynthia was in the lobby with a man he’d never met. “Owen, there you are! Here.” She handed him a key. “Make sure you get some rest now.”   
“Thank you my dear.” Owen took the keys and headed to the elevator. He was on crutches still, his muscles had been torn pretty badly, but he could more or less walk.

Curt was reading on the bed when he came in. “Owen!” He got up and moved to help him. “How are you? Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” Owen smiled and let Curt half-carry him to the bed. “Draw the curtains, love, let’s have some privacy.”   
Curt complied. “Still in pain? Did they give you anything for it?”

“They gave me some pills, but told me to try to limit it. I’ve taken one before I came here, so I’ll be fine for a good while.” Owen reached out to Curt. “Might be a little high when they kick in though, given the cocktail I’ve been on lately.”   
Curt took both Owen’s hands, but remained standing. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”   
“I know you will.” Owen tugged on Curt’s hands a little. “Lay down with me. How often do we get to share a hotel room?”

Curt laughed and relented, laying down next to Owen. “Not nearly often enough,” he replied.

Owen traced the lines of Curt’s face with a finger. “Curt Mega. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.” He savoured the blush that rose to Curt’s face. “I love you. You are everything I’ve ever looked for, and you don’t even know.” Owen was ranting a little bit, still under the influence of pain medication and delirious from pain, but he enjoyed making Curt flustered. And he wasn’t exactly lying. “I’m never happier than when I’m with you.”

“Owen, I…” Curt was practically whispering. “I love you too. But don’t talk like that, it’s…” Curt glanced away. “I want to, I want to be with you, I do. I love you. But this is…”   
“I know, I’m sorry.” They’d talked about it before; they had different perspectives on their relationship as it was, even if they wanted the same thing. “One day, either the world will change, or we’ll retire and move to Sweden.” Owen chuckled a little. “But Curt, love, as long as we’re in private…”

“Right.” Curt put his hands on Owen’s hips and pulled him closer. “Right.” He kissed Owen’s forehead. “Well, my dearest, it’s almost 8pm, I think it might be time for dinner. I’ll order us some room service.”

“Sure.” Owen smiled and let Curt get up to head to the phone. “I think I just want some chips, I’m still a little on edge from the hospital.”   
“You mean chips or fries?”

“Fries.” Owen grimaced. “American,” he scoffed.

Curt gestured to the phone. “You’re welcome to order. The concierge when we arrived did not speak a lick of English.” He raised an eyebrow.

Owen knew a challenge when he saw one, but he wasn’t in the mood. “Can you order me some fries, love?”

“Of course.” Curt picked up the receiver and said something in Russian. He’d written it down in advance, Owen noticed, so it wasn’t as rusty as usual. Not that Owen would ever be able to tell if it was correct or not, but he did note that he was speaking faster.

Curt sat on the edge of the bed while they waited for the food. They’d had a close call with some cleaning staff in a hotel a few years before, so they were careful.

Once the food arrived, Curt pulled the table over to the bed so that Owen didn’t have to get up. He sat on the other side on a chair.

“You know, you’re right,” Owen said after a minute of them eating silently. He was picking at his chips, not really interested in them. “We can’t have a normal relationship in this world, and I shouldn’t be trying to. I just want to be able to tell you I love you without you looking over your shoulder for someone listening. I just want to be able to be on a date, even if it’s in a hotel room. Just pretend for a few hours that we can.”

“Owen…” Curt put down his burger. “I want that to. Hell, I’d marry you if I could.” Owen’s heart skipped a little at that. “I just can’t forget the world. I love you, but I love my job too. I don’t — I  _ can’t _ sacrifice that. And neither can you.”   
“No, of course not.” Owen smiled. “I wouldn’t ever ask you to. And I hope… If I’m ever holding you back, tell me. That’s the last thing I want. I know I can’t be a part of your life as anything other than a work friend, but… Emphasis on the  _ friend _ part for other people’s benefit, yeah?”

“I can live with that.” Curt raised his glass. “To friendship.”

“To friendship.” Owen raised his glass as well.

They ate in silence, but Owen enjoyed it. He rarely got quiet time with Curt; they were usually at work, or they only had one night and well, there were better things to do than enjoy the silence when they had such limited time.

Curt collected the dishes and put them outside the door and put the ‘do not disturb’ sign up when they were done eating. He then helped Owen get situated so that he could sit in the bed with his leg up.

“I hate being injured,” Owen sighed. “It’s so boring.”

“Thought you liked me fussing over you.” Curt kissed his hair.

“Oh I do, love, I just wish it didn’t come with me being bedridden.”

Curt sat down next to Owen. “You’ll be up again soon.” He yawned. “You know, I’m actually kinda tired. Are you gonna be okay if I go to sleep?”

“Of course.” Owen smiled. “Get some sleep, my dear. I’ll be fine.”

“Great.” Curt go undressed and moved around the hotel room to get ready, Owen following him with his eyes. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. I love you.” Owen gave Curt’s hand a squeeze.

Curt kissed him. “I love you too.” He laid down and was asleep within minutes.

Owen had spent most of the day in a bed, so he wasn’t really tired yet. He settled for watching Curt; he looked a lot calmer asleep than he did awake. He was sprawled out on his stomach with the blankets loosely tangled around him, instead of covering him properly. He was always beautiful, but like this, with no performance, no guilt, no guard, he almost seemed to lean into it.

Owen took the business card from Alexei out of his jacket and looked at it. He thought over what he knew about Chimera, and what he’d thought. Then he looked at Curt again; it would take a lot to convince him to join, but Owen found that he didn’t really want to do it without at least trying to bring Curt in. In a world like the one Chimera seemed to propose, there was a fair chance they’d never have to hide again. It was a selfish motivation, yes, but so be it.

Eventually, Owen laid down to sleep, neatly slipping an arm around Curt before doing so. It took him a while after that, but the slow and steady breathing of his lover eventually lulled him asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A morning, and a phonecall

Owen woke up in the morning with Curt half on top of him. He was about to shove him off, but then hesitated; it was one of those rare moments where he woke before Curt, and he wanted to enjoy it for just a moment, before Curt woke up and got out of bed and started fussing.

He could’ve saved his worry. Curt woke up a second later and immediately rolled away. “Sorry, are you okay? Didn’t mean to hurt you.”   
“I’m fine, love, don’t worry.”

“Good.” Curt rolled back and put both arms around Owen. “I’m not in the mood to get up yet.”   
Owen was slightly taken aback, but he counted his blessings. “Me either. And you’re warm, unlike the rest of this room.” He turned so that he could face Curt and kiss him. “I love you.”   
“Love you too.” Curt ran his hands through Owen’s hair. “You need a haircut, you know that? It’s getting long enough to put up.”   
“Maybe I should just put it up.” Owen reached up to pull his hair out of his face. “Not that I have anything to do it with.” He laughed and kissed Curt again, letting his hair fall. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course not. I just noticed.” Curt put his arms around Owen again and pulled him closer. “Hey, I wanted to apologise… You’re right, we’re in private, and we don’t get nearly enough time.”   
“Don’t worry about it.” Owen put both hands on Curt’s shoulders. “Let’s just enjoy that we have this time. Let’s just take our time.”

"Of course." 

Curt smiled, in that way that made Owen's heart break, and Owen held him close.

The day passed fairly uneventfully in the hotel. Around dinner, there was a knock on the door. Curt went to answer, and Cynthia stepped into the room without preface. "Owen," she said, nodding at him. "Good to see you're recovering."

"Thank you, Cynthia."

"Mega, you have an assignment." Curt glanced back at Owen. "Don't worry, it won't take you away from here. But come with me, I'll brief you." She looked over at Owen. "He'll be back in a few hours."

Owen smiled at her. "Don't worry, Cynthia, I'll be fine. Duty calls." He looked at Curt. "Go ahead, dear, I'll be fine."

Curt looked unsurely back at Cynthia, then walked over to where Owen was sitting on the bed. "Take care." He kissed him quickly. "I love you," he whispered, softly enough for Cynthia not to hear.

"Love you too." Owen had no idea why they were keeping their voices down, since Cynthia had seen them kiss, but he followed suit.

After Curt left, Owen took out the business card again and looked it over. He thought it through, then hobbled over to the telephone with the aid of a chair. He dialled the number scrawled on the back.

The voice on the other end of the phone said something in Russian.

“Alexei? It’s Owen Carvour. You gave me this number at the hospital the other day.”   
“Owen, of course.” Something about the quick language switch and the eagerness in his voice — almost performative — put Owen on edge. “Have you considered our offer?”   
“I’d like to speak with your director.” He might be interested, but Owen was no idiot. “I’m still too injured to leave my hotel room, but if you can put her on the phone, or tell me when I can get to her, that would be great.”

“Of course. One moment, please.”

A few minutes later, a woman’s voice came on the phone. “Mr. Carvour, was it?” She was decidedly American.

“Yes. Mrs. Sylas?”   
“Miss, but please, call me Lauren. May I call you Owen?”   
“No.” Owen often didn’t mind people using his first name, but he was being careful here. “Lauren, then. I have heard a little from Alexei about your work with Chimera? I’m interested to know exactly what your goals are.”

“Our goal is to eliminate the need for espionage entirely by eliminating the concept of state secrets. Now, do you want to know about our methods?”   
“Yes, please.”

Owen had been apprehensive, but as Lauren spoke and explained their theories, he became more and more convinced. He ended the conversation by thanking her and saying he’d be in touch.

Curt returned several hours later, apparently tired. He laid down on the bed, then looked at Owen, still seated on the chair by the phone. "How did you get up?"

"With great difficulty." Owen smiled. "What's up, what happened?"

"I am specifically not supposed to tell you." Curt sat back up. "Do you need help back to the bed? Do you need anything?"

"It's alright." Owen stood up and used the chair to get back to the bed. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something, actually."

"Oh nice." Curt stiffened. "It's nothing bad, is it?"

"Not at all, my dear." Owen reached for his hand. "You know, I'm a spy, and that won't change."

"Spies are forever."

"Indeed. But I have been thinking, maybe there are better ways to be a spy? And I've been talking to some people, and I'm gonna go meet with them, but I'd like it if you came." He pulled Curt's hand up to kiss his knuckles. "I don't know how much you agree, but I think you should hear them out."

"Alright." Curt smiled. "Can we talk about it tomorrow? I wanna sleep."

"Sure." Owen kissed him properly. "Goodnight, my dear. I love you."

"I love you too." Curt closed his eyes and was asleep within seconds.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation is had. A lesson is given.

Curt was clearly sceptical about Chimera when Owen explained it to him over breakfast the next morning. He listened and nodded and even contributed some ideas, but overall, he didn’t seem to think it was the right call. He did, however, agree to go with Owen if he wasn’t working.

So Owen called up Lauren to set up a meeting. He pushed it about a week; it meant they couldn’t be sure if Curt was still there, but it also meant Owen could most likely walk by then.

They spent a quiet day together; Curt didn’t have to leave for work until after dinner, and this was the longest they had ever gotten to spend together. Curt washed some of their clothes in the sink; neither of them had been prepared to be gone for so long, and Owen had had his stuff in the compound, so he didn’t have any clean clothes whatsoever. He could wear Curt’s shirts, although they were a little big on him, but he needed clean trousers.

Cynthia came into their room at around four in the afternoon, utterly disregarding knocking and the “do not disturb” sign. “Owen,” she said, handing him a radio. “Your boss wants to speak to you.”   
“Director Smith?” Owen held up the radio. “I’m here.”

“Agent Carvour.” Director Smith was as yappy as Cynthia, but a lot less likeable. “How come you have not checked in?”   
“I have been under the influence of heavy pain medication, not to mention, I was under the impression that Director Houston and the ASS had checked in with you, so I decided that it was no rush.” Owen hated Director Smith. He was often tempted to take up Cynthia’s offer to work for the ASS, but he was British, and there was the issue of treason. “I hope you haven’t worried excessively.”   
“No, Director Houston checked in. I just wondered why  _ you _ haven’t.”

So there was a fair chance Director Smith hated Owen, too. “As I said, I have been under the influence of pain medication. Still am, in fact.”   
Director Smith scoffed. “Very well. Check in again when you’re off the medication.”

“I will.” Owen switched the radio off and handed it back to Cynthia. “Thank you.” He looked at Curt. “Remind me to keep my radio off.”   
“Both of you should be having your radios off when you’re here,” Cynthia said, looking warningly from one to the other. “Alright, work time, both of you. Sit down and listen.”

Owen was already sitting, but he straightened his back a little in a show of obedience. Curt grabbed a chair. “What’s this about?”

“I don’t want HUAC on my case just because you two idiots aren’t nearly careful enough. I have almost fucking caught you six times, and I did actually catch you once, so, ground rules. No fucking public displays of affection. No more stunts like the one at the hospital. Locked doors, curtains drawn. This applies to words too, we might be in fucking Russia, but people speak English. And you.” She pointed at Owen. “Cut the fucking pet names, alright. Being British only gets you so far. And you.” She pointed at Curt. “I can see you flirting from a mile away. Cut it out. Both of you; radios off when you’re together, I have heard you fucking at least once.” Curt abruptly flushed, and Owen suspected he looked the same, but Cynthia didn’t seem to take note. “Be fucking careful. And both of you should consider getting a girlfriend.”

“That’s a little extreme,” Owen muttered. “But yes, Cynthia, you’re right. Thank you. And thank you for covering for us.”

“You chucklefucks clearly aren’t capable of doing it yourself.” She clapped her hands once. “Class dismissed. See you later. Mega, 8pm.”   
“I know, Cynthia.” Curt smiled. “And yes, thank you.”

Cynthia left without another word. Owen looked at Curt. “She might be right about the girlfriend thing, though.”   
“You think so?” Curt scrunched up his face.   
Owen shrugged. “It’ll avert suspicion. And a better defense against women in bars than I am.” He winked. “But you’re probably in less hot water than I, since Cynthia seems to be okay.”   
“You get a girlfriend, then.” Curt smiled and moved to sit next to him. “Handsome guy like you, can’t be a problem.”   
He took both Curt’s hands in his. “I don’t want to, though. I want you.”   
“I know.” Curt leaned forward to kiss him. “What makes you think I want to?”   
“You care about your reputation.” Owen smiled. “Which is good, lord knows you’ll keep your job longer than I will, at this rate. Especially if you have a girlfriend.” He let go of one of Curt’s hands to poke him lightly in the chest. “But let’s not talk about that right now. When do you have work?”   
Curt glanced at the clock. “Three hours.” He raised an eyebrow. “You look like you have something in mind.”   
“Well.” Owen stood, carrying his weight on his good leg. “I think I’m about healed enough to get my heart rate up.”   
“Is that so?” Curt stood up in front of Owen, holding him. Owen let him carry most of his weight. “And how come I’m carrying you then?”   
“Because I enjoy being carried.” Owen put his arms around Curt’s neck and put the last of his weight over on Curt as he pulled himself up for a kiss. “And, you know, you could carry me to the bed.”

“I could.” Curt shifted so he was carrying Owen bridal-style instead of upright. “I could also just do this.” He sat back down with Owen on his lap. “Or is that not soft enough for you,  _ darling _ ?” He was making a mockery of the pet name.

Owen rolled his eyes. “Come on, Curt, dear, we have so little time.” He kissed him. “Let’s make good use of it.”   
Curt smiled. “One moment.” He pulled Owen into a kiss, longer than their usual quick, short exchanges. “Just wanted that.” He was half whispering.

“Me too.” Owen cradled his face in one hand. “Me too.” He leaned in for another kiss, slow and sweet. “I love you.”   
“I love you too.” Curt stood, carrying Owen with him to the bed. “But you’re right. We never get near enough time.”

Owen hadn’t really cared for sex before he met Curt. It was fun, sure, but with Curt it was sweet and loving and real. And when they were done, it wasn’t all done, Curt curled up in his arms and fell halfway asleep and Owen dozed off as well, though not before setting the alarm so that Curt would have time to get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cynthia is smarter than either of the boys and it shows.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An injury is sustained

Owen worked while Curt was gone. There was a limit to how much he could do, confined to a hotel room and with only what he’d had on him and Curt’s stuff, but he could do some. Clean and check his firearms, attempt to stitch up the tears in their clothes with the small provided sewing kit, and take notes for his mission report on hotel stationary. He also took some notes on Chimera, wrote down what he knew about Alexei and about Lauren. It was disturbingly little.

It was well into the AMs by the time Curt returned. “Hey Owen.” He stumbled and fell on his way to the bed.

Owen rushed over to him as much as he could. “What’s up. Curt? What happened?” He cradled Curt’s head in his lap. “Are you okay?”

“‘M fine.” Curt took Owen’s hands. “It’s nothing. Just a sprain. Fall didn’t even hurt.”   
“How did you get a sprain walking?” Owen relaxed a little, now that he knew Curt was more or less alright. “You literally took two steps on a flat floor.”   
“Oh no, it was already sprained.” Curt pulled himself into a sitting position, leaning against Owen’s chest. “I sprained it at work. Told Cynthia it was fine, then must’ve put a bit too much weight on it when walking.”

Owen shook his head. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He pulled Curt up, and they supported each other’s weight to the bed. Owen laughed a little. “Well, guess we’ll just have to stay here forever.”

Curt shook his head. “Can you call Cynthia on the radio? Mine’s a little far away.”   
“Sure.” Owen reached for his radio on the bedside table and tuned into the right frequency. “Cynthia?”

“Owen. What’s wrong, is Curt back?”

“He’s right here. He’s apparently gotten injured, I think he wants to talk to you.” He raised an eyebrow at Curt, who vigorously shook his head. “Or not, he asked me to call you.”   
Curt sighed and took the radio. “Come in here, Director Houston, we need to plan.”   
“Oh no, you only call me Director Houston when there’s trouble. I’ll be there in a minute.” Cynthia killed the connection without waiting for a reply.

She came in a few minutes later. In the meantime, Owen had arranged them so that Curt could have his leg raised. Owen was sitting behind him, supporting most of his weight against his chest.

Cynthia glared at them. Then she just glared at Curt. “What happened, agent?”   
“I sprained my ankle,” he replied evenly. “While at work, I might add.”

“Right.” She stared at Owen. “What do you know?”   
“Nothing. He came in, fell, I went to see what happened, he said he’d sprained his ankle. I made him hold it up. It’s swollen.” Owen leaned his head on Curt’s shoulder. “I don’t know anything about what happened.”   
Cynthia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Well, you two morons need to stay here. I’m gonna attempt to set up an arrangement with Director Smith. Both of you, shut up.” She turned her radio on. “Director Smith. I have a proposal.”   
“Is that so?” He sounded annoyed. “Listen here, Mrs. Houston—”

“That’s Director Houston, and yes, I know, I’m not trying to interfere in MI6 business.” Cynthia rolled her eyes. “Agent Mega has been mildly injured. Between him and Agent Carvour, they should both be perfectly safe, and Agent Mega won’t be much use to me for a while. The two of them should be just fine together without additional backup, and we can both save some money until they can travel.”

There was a long silence from the other side of the radio. “And you’re sure two injured agents can hold up?”   
“They’re the two best agents in the business, Director Smith, I could cut their fucking feet off and that would still be true. Both of them can stand and move, both of them can shoot. Your call, I just wanted to make the suggestion.” Cynthia was snapping even more than usual. “I don’t know if you know this, Director Smith, but we’re in the middle of a cold war and we’re on the same fucking side, so maybe I’m not trying to undermine you.”   
Director Smith huffed a bit, clearly not happy with being told off. And less so because Cynthia was a woman, Owen figured; Director Smith was like that. “Well then,” he said. “I won’t send anyone out. Make sure you take care now, Miss… Director Houston.”   
“You too, Director Smith. Aha. Bye.” Cynthia killed the radio. “God, I hate that guy.” She looked at Owen. “How do you work for him?”   
Owen shrugged. “Don’t have much of a choice. Thank you, by the way. That was unnecessary.”

“No it wasn’t, I need Curt out of the field for a while for other reasons.” She looked at him. “You know what, I don’t give a shit, you can do what you want. Vacation time. Owen, I honestly don’t know what Director Smith expects of you, but you gotta figure that out for yourself, I’m not fucking talking to the man again.”   
“Of course my dear.” Owen reached around to take Curt’s hand. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow. It’s pretty late now, I don’t really want to.”   
“Can’t blame you.” Cynthia lit a cigarette. “As I said, our door’s always open.”   
“Still treason. Now get out, we need to sleep.”

Cynthia stared at him; Owen looked back calmly, still with his chin resting on Curt’s shoulder. She gave up first and left without a word.

“Curt?” Owen kissed his hair. “Curt, love, you’ve been quiet.”

“Yeah.” Curt reached his hands back to lace his fingers with Owen’s. “I’m a little tired, and honestly, this sprain hurts like a bitch. I think I’d like to sleep.”   
“Of course dear.” Owen freed himself and helped Curt lay down so he still had his foot up. “Goodnight. I love you.”   
“I love you too.” Curt kissed him. “See you tomorrow.”   
“See you.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An important meeting, and an equally important conversation.

They spent five days fairly uneventfully in the hotel. Owen managed to convince Director Smith that he didn’t need any extra protection, so he got to stay with just Curt. It was lovely; it was, Owen figured, the longest they’d ever gotten to spend together outside of work.

Day six, they went to meet with Lauren Sylas. Neither of them had been outside much, on account of them both having injured legs, but they managed alright. Owen was mostly healed, and Curt could walk with a crutch.

Alexei opened the door. “Owen, how good to see you.”   
“Alexei.” Owen shook his hand. “Ah, this is my associate and good friend, Curt Mega. He’s interested in your work, so I figured I’d bring him along.”

“Very well. Nice to meet you… May I call you Curt?” Alexei put out a hand.

“Sure.” Curt shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Alexei.”

“Alright. Come on in, Lauren is waiting in the studio.”

Lauren, as it turned out, was a woman about Owen’s height, with blond hair in a tight ponytail, and a practical brown dress. She looked up as they entered. “Which one of you is Owen Carvour?” Her accent was, somehow, even stronger in person.

“That would be me,” Owen replied. “This is my close friend and associate Curt Mega. He’s interested in what exactly Chimera is trying to achieve.”

“Very well.” Lauren shook both their hands, then took a seat behind a desk and gestured to two chairs across from her. “Take a seat and let’s talk.”

Alexei left the room. Curt and Owen sat down across from Lauren. “So,” Owen said. They’d agreed to let him do most of the talking. “We’ve talked about what Chimera does, but what exactly do you need us for?”

Lauren leaned back. “You’re spies. We need you to spy, of course.”

“I thought that was what you were trying to eliminate?” Curt shot in.

Owen subtly knocked their feet together. “Curt,” he warned under his breath. He raised his voice to speak to Lauren. “Curt is right. I don’t see why you need spies when you’re trying to eliminate the need for us entirely.”   
“You don’t understand. We don’t want you to go around killing people or whatever it is you do.”   
“We don’t—” Curt began, but Owen shushed him.

Lauren glared at him. “As I was saying. That’s not what we need you to do. We need to know the most effective method of taking down your system, which means that we need to know how it works. That’s where you two come in. You both work for one of the biggest intelligence and espionage agencies in the world — I assume, based on your accents, that you’re British and American — and you’re what will help us understand the system and dismantle it.”   
Owen nodded slowly. That made perfect sense. “And let me ask, just for clarification,  _ why _ do you believe that dismantling the existing system is the best option? I am aware it’s flawed, no doubt about it, but why dismantle it entirely as opposed to reforming it?”

“Let me ask this.” Lauren looked at Curt. “Do you think your agency would give up the kind of work you do? The travelling, the guns? Would they?”

“Maybe.” Curt slowly shook his head. “The people in charge might. If it was the best option.”   
“It isn’t,” Lauren replied. “Not yet, at least.”   
“Then make it the best option.” Owen shrugged. “Maybe putting highly sensitive secrets in the hands of someone who knows that their plan is faulty is simply not the best option.”   
“We mean to dismantle the concept of highly sensitive secrets. If there are no state secrets, nation states are forced to operate entirely above board.” Lauren tapped the desktop as though to emphasise. “And if that is the case, the need for people like you will be much less. You’ve both killed for state secrets, I take it?” Curt and Owen both nodded. “To protect them or to obtain them?”   
“Both,” Curt replied.

“Both,” Owen agreed. “Mostly to obtain them, though.”

“Exactly.” Lauren looked back and forth between them. “So, let’s say there were no state secrets, everyone knew everything, no matter what. How much of your job would be obsolete?”   
“The majority,” Owen replied. “We’d be effectively useless.”

“And how many lives would be saved?”

Owen sighed. “A lot.”

“No one would be able to strategise a war,” Curt protested. “If your opponent knows your strategy, they can plan accordingly.”   
“And you’ll know exactly how they plan against you, so you can readjust to that,” Owen said softly. “World leaders would be forced to resort to diplomacy. At least in cases where they can’t win by brute force alone.”   
Lauren nodded and pointed at him. “You get it. And by including civilian information, we’re hoping to reduce any use of brute force.”

Curt shook his head, but remained quiet. Owen looked at Lauren. “And you want us to do what, exactly?”   
“Help us understand how the agencies operate today and what we would need to replace. Any functions that doesn’t deal with state secrets will need an appropriate replacement under Chimera’s system, and we need to know what those are, and how we can replace or integrate them.”

“Right.” Owen nodded slowly, then glanced at Curt, who looked like he wanted to be somewhere else. “I think that’s all we need for today. We’ll discuss and consider your offer. For how long are you here? We’ll make sure to call before you leave.”   
Lauren nodded. “I’m here for another three weeks.” She stood and reached out a hand. “Mr. Carvour, Mr. Mega. It’s been a pleasure.”   
“Likewise.” Owen shook her hand. Then Curt did too, but he didn’t say anything. “We’ll see you around, Lauren.” Owen left the study, Curt on his heels.

They didn’t see Alexei on their way out. Once outside, Curt looked at Owen. “I don’t like this at all,” he said.

“Curt…” Owen wanted to reach out his hand to him, but restrained himself; they were in public, and Cynthia had been strict about it. “I know it seems counterintuitive, but think about it. Please. We’ll talk more when we get back inside.”   
“Right.” Curt stayed oddly quiet for the rest of the walk back to the hotel.

Once inside, Curt immediately sat on the bed and threw his injured leg up. “I shouldn’t have walked on it so soon,” he said.

Owen rushed over to him. “Do you need anything?”

Curt shook his head. “I’m alright. Come here.” He reached out a hand, and Owen took it and went to sit next to him.

“I love you, Curt Mega.” Owen brushed a kiss over Curt’s hand. “Remember that.”   
“I know. I love you too.” Curt rested his head on Owen’s shoulder. “I don’t know if we agree about Chimera, but that’s alright.”

“I know.” Owen traced the veins in Curt’s wrist. He didn’t meet his eyes. “I hope you know I’m going back. And I’d like you with me, I…” He smiled, but still didn’t look up. “I don’t want to do anything without you.” Damn him to hell. Curt Mega was dangerous for him, but he couldn’t find the energy to care. He wanted him. And he wasn’t big on consequences.   
Curt pulled his face up to meet his eyes and kissed him. “Owen Carvour.” He said it with a sigh. “Alright. Convince me.”

“Curt…” Owen pulled away, putting a few inches of space between them. “Just let me talk, then, love.”   
“I will.” Curt gestured for Owen to go ahead.

So he did. He restated what Lauren had said, reframed what it meant, pointed out how it would work and all the good it could do. He used examples he hadn’t wanted to mention in front of Lauren. He appealed to everything he knew Curt believed.

And yet, when he was done, though slowly nodding, Curt wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know, Owen. I’m still worried about invading the privacy of civilians. Not to mention, as long as I don’t know their methods, I might as well believe that they plan to publicly execute everyone who’s supported this system. Including me. Including  _ you. _ ” He reached out to caress Owen’s cheek. “I can’t support that.”   
“They won’t. Curt, love… They’re necessary sacrifices. We make those all the time.”

“I know. But Owen, this doesn’t affect just one person. Every sacrifice we make is one person, maybe a group. But this would be… Everyone. The whole world.”   
Owen shook his head. “Most people wouldn’t know the difference. If we can control threats… Stop wars… Everything… Wouldn’t it be worth it, then?”

Curt looked at him for a long time. Too long. “I’m tired. Let’s sleep and think about it tomorrow.”

“Love…”   
“I love you, Owen. I don’t want to fight. Let’s not have this discussion right now.” Curt laid down and opened his arms. “Come to bed.”

“Right.” Owen laid down in Curt’s arms. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Curt kissed his forehead. “Goodnight.”   
“Goodnight.”

Owen stayed awake for a while, mostly just matching Curt’s breathing and trying to remember that he was doing the right thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got fairly political in this chapter, but I wanted to show Chimera's ideas as something that would make sense to Owen, but be terrifying to Curt, so here we are. We'll be back to your regularly scheduled relationships and angst shortly.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disagreements are had.

The next morning, Owen woke long before Curt, but stayed firmly curled up in his arms. He’d been having nightmares, and he carried some of the fear into the waking world. Namely the fear that he’d lose Curt, somehow. The dreams were hazy and far away, but the pain lingered.

Which is why, when Curt woke, Owen kissed him and didn’t stop until Curt pulled away. “What a beautiful thing to wake up to,” he whispered, half smiling. “But are you okay?”

Owen nodded. “I love you.” He kissed him again, and this time, Curt didn’t pull away.

They kissed for a few minutes, Owen restless, Curt soft. Curt stopped them when Owen began unbuttoning his shirt. “Owen, what’s wrong? Something’s wrong, what is it?”

“Nothing.” Owen sighed. “I had a nightmare, is all. Nothing to worry about, love.”

Curt looked like he wanted to protest, but he just pressed a quick kiss to Owen’s forehead. “Alright. Well, I’m gonna order some breakfast for us.”

“Good idea.” Owen let him go, although he was reluctant.

They ate in silence, but it was comfortable. They never had time for quiet, or for sweet, and Owen enjoyed it, although he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it was the last time.

“We need to talk about Chimera,” Curt said, once they’d cleared away their dishes and left them outside.

“I know.” Owen sat down. “I’m going back. I’m helping them. I’m sorry Curt, I love you, but this… This is bigger than either of us.”   
“It is.” Curt looked at him, but he didn’t look happy. “Owen, they’re spying on civilians. They’re gonna exploit civilian secrets. Stuff like this.” He gestured between them. “The relationship we have… We wouldn’t be able to keep that, in a world like that. And we’re not the only ones. Every man deserves a little bit of privacy.”

“In a world like the one Chimera proposes we wouldn’t have to keep this secret.” Owen wasn’t sure he was right, but he had to believe it. After all, if everyone knew everything, well, things like this wouldn’t matter.

“It’s not just war you’d prevent. If you’re spying on civilians, you’d know every single time a crime was committed. And exactly who did it, and why. You’d make courts obsolete.”   
“How is that not a good thing?”   
“Owen.” Curt took his hand and kissed it. “This is illegal. We’re criminals, right here, right now, every time we see each other. I know you don’t want to think about that, neither do I, but it’s true. I love you, and somehow, in the eyes of the law, that makes me a traitor to my country. What then? How do you know Chimera would allow this? Our governments sure wouldn’t. So few people would. If no one can keep secrets, no one can determine what’s wrong and what’s right.”

Owen took his hand away, his fear back tenfold. “Curt. That’s not what this is about. We’re focusing on global peace, do you really think we have time to care about people being queer?”

Curt shook his head. “They do now. My president, your prime minister, they have time to care, and they’re trying… It’s too risky, Owen. HUAC would have my head for this sort of thing, if they knew. And they’d know.”

“I’ll do it alone then. I don’t need you." Owen felt his heart shatter, but he'd made up his mind.

"I love you." Curt held out his hands, but Owen didn't take them. "Let's not fight about it. Let's not talk about it anymore. We've worked for different agencies this whole time, we can manage. We always have."

Owen looked at him for a long time, then took one of his hands. "I love you too."

They didn't talk about it any more that day, but Owen called Lauren and scheduled a meeting for the day after


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen crosses a line.

He went alone. "Ah, Mr. Carvour." Lauren opened the door, Alexei nowhere in sight.

"Lauren." Owen stepped inside. "I believe we have met enough for you to call me Owen."

"Owen then, come on." She led the way to the study. "Where's your acquaintance?" She sat behind the desk, and gestured for Owen to sit across from her.

He complied. "Curt— Mr. Mega has decided that Chimera's work is not for him. I decided that I'm interested in helping."

"Right, right…" Lauren leaned forward and looked at him. "And how can we guarantee that he won't give us up to the Americans?"

The truth was that they couldn't. "Curt and I have been friends for years. I trust him. Until something is a personal threat to either himself, me, or his family, he'll shut up. And if it is, I, too, will give this up, which I hope you understand."

"Of course." Lauren did a dismissive wave with one hand. "No personal harm. Tell me, Owen, are you married?"

"No. No family at all, really. What difference does it make?" He was worried. Just because Chimera was right, it didn't mean that Lauren wasn't dangerous.

"Well. You're already employed in Britain, of course, but we were thinking that you could, perhaps, help full time with our interests?"

Owen hesitated. "I don't see what use I'd be outside of my agency. Not to mention, I do still want to serve my country, so as long as Chimera has not implemented their system, I'd like to remain as a British spy."

"Hmm." Lauren stared at him. "Very well. We can still make use of your expertise. Can you guarantee safe communication?"

"Letters work just fine. What do you need from me now?"

"Everything."

They spent a few hours talking through everything, Owen's role in Chimera and how he would facilitate it while still working for the British government. And then Owen told her everything he knew about how British intelligence operated, and what he knew about other countries’ intelligence agencies through work. Although he knew he was doing the right thing, it was treason, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

One that lingered when he returned to the hotel and Curt hugged him. He didn’t quite feel like he deserved it at that point, but he needed it, so he let it happen. He didn’t cry, not exactly, but he might as well have, for how concerned Curt was. But Owen refused to say anything. Chimera was his business now, so it was his burden to bear.

Curt got them some food, but Owen didn’t eat. He did, however, manage to sleep, eventually, with Curt still holding him.

Curt was awake before Owen the next morning and had already ordered them some breakfast. Owen still wasn’t hungry. “You need to eat,” Curt said. “And you need to talk. What happened yesterday? I’ve never seen you, I’ve never seen  _ anyone _ that distraught after a damn business meeting.”

He ate a few bites of fruit, then put it down. “You chose to stay out of this, Curt. You don’t get to get involved.”

“I don’t want to. But I love you, and you’re upset, and I want to help you. Talk to me.” Curt reached over the table, but Owen drew his hands away.

“I’m fine, love. It’s a change of pace, that’s all.” He forced a smile and picked up a piece of toast. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was feeling, but he didn’t want Curt to worry, and that was the main thing. “I love you too. Don’t worry about me.”   
“Alright.” Curt looked sceptical, but he backed off.

They spent the day together, but mostly in silence. Owen figured there was more communication in their quick kisses than in any words they said.

He still felt bad. He knew he’d made the right choice. He knew he wouldn’t regret this. But he was afraid he’d lose Curt to his own loyalty, and he didn’t want that. The more he thought about it, however, the more it seemed like a necessary sacrifice.

With that in mind, Owen got desperate again. They’d been together long enough that a lot of their usual speed, their fear-fueled affair, had slowed down into a more casual relationship, the kind that Owen had always hoped they could have. But he knew, now, that his time was limited, so he wanted to be as close to Curt as possible, even if it left a sour taste in his mouth because he knew he didn’t deserve it anymore. To his relief, Curt didn’t question him, but just let him lead. He didn’t know if he’d let himself have this again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A goodbye looms close.

Owen went to see Lauren and Alexei again the day after. His leg was healed enough to walk, which meant he had to return to work soon, even if not to the field. He wanted to clear up what he had to do. He’d told Curt to contact Cynthia to know what his arrangements would be if Owen left; he’d contact Director Smith later.

They sat in Alexei’s living room, rather than the study. Initially, the plan was just for Owen to return to work, and make sure Lauren could contact him when she needed him. Initially, he didn’t have to change anything.

When he came back, Curt was talking to Cynthia on the radio, so Owen stayed quiet.

“Thank you, Cynthia. I’ll let him know.” He switched the radio off and sent a smile at Owen. “Hey. How was it?”   
“Fine.” Owen smiled back. “What did Cynthia say?”

“She just wants me to come back as soon as you’re leaving, I’m alright to fly anyway. She only let me stay here because of you.” Curt gestured to the radio. “Did you want to contact your director?”

“Want is a strong word.” Owen chuckled. “Should, more like.” He took the radio Curt held out. “Here we go.” He adjusted the settings so that he could contact Director Smith.

There was a moment of static. “Agent Carvour?”

“Yes, Director Smith, hello. I just wanted to let you know, I’m not quite ready for being in the field, but I am clear to fly, so I can return home.” He almost wished he didn’t have to. “I just wanted to know what you plan to do.”

“Someone will come pick you up tomorrow,” Director Smith replied. “You and that damned American. Director Houston has asked that we bring him with us for now.”

“Very well. Thank you, Director. I’ll see you.” Owen wanted to close the connection, but he knew he had to wait for Director Smith.

Director Smith scoffed. “See you, Agent Carvour.” He cut the connection, and Owen switched the radio off entirely. “Well.” He smiled at Curt. “One last night together.”

“For now.” Curt smiled, and it made Owen feel worse. “Tell you what, I’ll order up some dinner, it’s getting late, and we can take the night to ourselves, alright.”

“Sure.” Owen sat on the edge of the bed and let Curt order the food. He had a sinking feeling that this would be their last night, not just for now, but for good.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A goodbye.

He was right, and he hated it. They had a good night, and Owen got to wake up by Curt kissing him, but he still knew.

Someone came and picked them up in the hotel lobby. Owen knew he’d seen both agents before, but he couldn’t place them. He didn’t pay enough attention to remember their names this time, either. He just kept half an eye on Curt, not really knowing why.

Once on the plane, they actually had some semblance of privacy; Curt and Owen were placed near the back, the other two agents near the front. There was enough ambient noise for them to talk, even if only in hushed tones.

“Curt, I need to tell you something.” Owen was happy he could hold Curt’s hand without anyone seeing it; it was a comfort. “With Chimera, with the work we’re doing… I love you, but I don’t think this can continue. There are many things I’d do for you, my dear, but giving this up is not one of them.”   
“I know.” Curt squeezed his hand tighter. “I’m not asking you to. We can keep this.”

“Can we? Curt, when I…” Owen lowered his voice further. “When I commit treason, because on this path, eventually, I will, can you live with that? Can you know about that, know exactly when it happens, and live with yourself knowing you didn’t even try to talk me out of it.” Curt didn’t answer. “You can’t. And I love you too much to make you.”

“Don’t tell me.” Curt’s voice was strained, and Owen was aware that he probably wanted to yell, but forced himself to whisper. “We’ll never talk about work, we’ll never talk about Chimera. I’ll never know.”

“Curt…”   
“I just don’t want to lose you.” He was clearly on the verge of tears, and Owen wanted nothing more than to draw him into a hug. “I love you.”   
“I love you too. That’s why I’m doing this. Curt, I’d rather know that you’re out there, doing what you love, following your own ideals, without me. I’d rather never see you again than watch you tear yourself apart because of me. Please, just… Just let me do this. Promise me.”   
“Promise you what?”

Owen knew they had another hour to go until they landed in London, and he didn’t know if that was their goodbye. He didn’t want to feel like this, but at least Curt was still holding his hand. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself. Don’t get involved in anything that’ll get you killed. Take care of your mother. Go… Go be Agent Curt Mega. I’ll always be proud to have had you as my friend.”

Curt was shaking his head. “Don’t do this, Owen. I’d rather have you, I can live with knowing, I’d rather have you. I love you.”   
“I know. I love you too. But you also love your country, Curt, you could never be a traitor. You don’t have it in you. Not even for love.” Owen ran his thumb over Curt’s knuckles, thinking. He needed to make him understand. He needed this breakup to work. “Tell me, if I was on trial for treason, what would you do to save me?” Curt didn’t answer. “I know, and I don’t blame you. I can’t even guarantee I’d act differently if it were you. But we can’t work like this, and you know it. Even if you don’t want to admit it, trust me, Curt, this is for the best.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Curt was looking at their hands. “At least… At least, if we have time, let’s have a moment alone. A proper goodbye.”

“Right.” Owen squeezed his hand. “A proper goodbye.”

They were silent for the rest of the flight, but they didn’t let go of each other’s hands until they landed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new future.

They didn’t get time alone once they landed. A whispered promise and a professional goodbye was all they had time for before Curt had to continue to the US, and Owen had to go home.

It was the worst night in his life. He allowed himself to cry, now that he was alone, and he thought about Curt and everything they’d shared and everything he’d given up. For a good cause, he reminded himself. For the greater good. He knew he’d made the right decision, but it was hard not to doubt that when he was missing Curt as much as he was.

Still, he eventually managed to sleep. Plagued by nightmares, he didn’t feel particularly rested when he woke, and although he was back in his own bed, where he almost always slept alone, the fact that he didn’t have Curt next to him made him feel hollow.

Owen didn’t have plans that day; he was still on sick leave, and now that he was home, he didn’t even have to check in. So he stayed in bed and didn’t eat anything. And then he did the same thing the next day. And the day after that, he only ate because he knew he had to.

He got his life together a little after that and started going out. He didn’t have many friends, so he didn’t have much to do while on sick leave, but he did manage to read a bit, cook his own meals, and write. Mostly write; he wrote down everything he knew about Chimera, the way the organisation worked, his role in it, the role of the people he knew of, how and why they worked, and what their objectives were. He burned everything afterwards, of course, but it helped him collect his thoughts. It helped him convince himself he was doing the right thing.

It helped him to forget Curt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the last proper chapter; the next will be a small epikogue to wrap it all up.


	15. Epilogue - Curt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt thinks about his ex-lover again, seven years later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is written from Curt's perspective, as I kind of wanted him to have some sort of closure as well. It's set in 1964, so we're ignoring any and all events of the musical itself.

It had been seven years since Curt had seen Owen Carvour. He thought of him often, when he was drunk or half asleep or both, but rarely at work. Sometimes, though, something would remind him.

This day, as 1964 was coming to a close, was one of those days, where he thought about Owen at work. He was going over reports for the year, and one that wasn't his own had made its way into his folder. Curiosity got the better of him.

Curt had seen a few CIA reports that made him want to quit, but this time was much worse. He hadn't known much about what had happened in Congo, but he knew it had gotten bad. He knew there'd been American involvement. He'd suspected there'd been a political assassination. He hadn't expected to read, it great detail, how the CIA had tortured and murdered a leader of a foreign nation.

It was times like this he thought about Owen at work, because it was times like this he wondered if Chimera had been right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The case Curt is reading is that if Lmumba, a leader of the Congo who was tortured and murdered in a political assassination in 1964. Technically there is no official confirmation of CIA/American involvement, but it is the most likely theory out there, so I put it in.  
Thanks for reading! This was fun to write, and all those history of the Americas and international relations classes I took in high school were finally of use for something.


End file.
